


Wet and Wild

by vienn_peridot



Series: Citrus Basket [19]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alien Biology, Blow Jobs, Coitus Interruptus, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Light Dom/sub, Loud Sex, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Oral Fixation, Other, Party Ambulance, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Shower Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Voice Kink, gettin wrecked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 00:46:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7198601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vienn_peridot/pseuds/vienn_peridot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some self-indulgent alone time for Ratchet becomes something infinitely more satisfying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wet and Wild

**Author's Note:**

> Completely fucking **done** with humanity so I'm writing roboporn to cheer myself up.  
>  Again.  
> This is completely self-indulgent rarepair smut and uses weird spike+valve headcanons. I just need Ratchet getting wrecked.

It was the end of a long, busy week and Ratchet was more than ready to unwind and have a little fun.

Only problem was, his lover was busy.

So Ratchet would have to entertain himself.

Not that he was averse to doing so, it was just that he hadn’t had to for a while so he didn’t quite know where to start. He contemplated the contents of his toy chest and nibbled at a rough patch on the back of his knuckles, thinking.

The realisation that he had access to a completely private washrack again for the first time in several centuries decided him. Grabbing a few old friends, Ratchet left the crate containing his collection of interfacing toys on his berth and strode for the washrack with anticipation heating his frame.

Solvent on too warm for a simple scrub ( _definitely_ self-indulgent, but he could justify it just this once) and careful measurement before attaching one of the toys to the wall, then he turnedhis attention to other things.

Like the vibrating spike ring and what setting he wanted to start with. Armour and secondary covers slid smoothly aside. Lubricant dribbled from his valve to stain his thighs as his spike pressurised smoothly to arch into the humid air. Remembering past accidents, Ratchet slipped the ring over his spike and settled it at the base of his shaft _before_ switching it on, choosing a moderate setting to start with.

Sighing happily as the spike ring buzzed to life Ratchet turned around and reached back between his legs, deliberately rubbing his wrist over external valve components as he felt around for the dildo. It was big, one of the thicker dildos in his collection. He wanted the stretch it gave him, that feeling of being stuffed with something big and firm but not so much of a challenge he wouldn’t be able to move briskly.

_Bit lower._

Spreading his legs to bring himself down just a little further, he presented his aft to the wall and began to ease backwards. As soon as the head of the toy found the pulsing entrance of his valve Ratchet let go, returning his hand to the wall to steady himself. The buzzing ring on his spike was sending just enough vibration through the protoflesh of his array to stimulate his internal sensory nodes. A few tweaks to the setting and Ratchet’s engine started purring.

 _Perfect_.

On that setting the ring would provide just enough stimulation for his spike so Ratchet could keep both arms up to support himself on the wall in front. With that accomplished he let his optics shut down and focused on the hot solvent relaxing tense cables and the head of the dildo resting at the entrance of his valve. Lubricant was flowing from his passage now, slicking his thighs and smearing over the part of the toy that rubbed against his plump folds.

Ratchet leaned back slowly, feeling the head of the toy push against him, testing his opening. It resisted and he bit his lip, anticipation fizzing through his lines as he pressed a little harder and felt the defined head of the dildo pop inside. His throaty moan echoed through the washracks as only the first small part of his passage stretched.

Cycling his vents, Ratchet soaked in the sensations coming from his array and waited for his valve callipers to finish relaxing. Vibrations from the spike ring carried back through his frame, lighting up as-yet-untouched sensory nodes deep within his valve. He had planned to go slowly, take his time and really indulge himself but the accidental tease demolished his patience.

Impatient to get to the real action, hungry for more of that full feeling, Ratchet began rocking his weight backwards and forwards. He fragged himself open in increments, reveling in the pleasure and slowly increasing the depth of his thrusts until the entire shaft sank into his valve and red aftplates hit the wall. He stayed like that as long as he could, relishing the initial haze of delight until it started to fade.

Then Ratchet began to frag himself in earnest, rocking his hips back and forwards fast and hard.

Disgusting squelching noises came from behind him but he didn’t notice or care, attention entirely focused on the sensations pouring through his frame. The ring kept his spike from waving around and sent delicious vibrations through the entire shaft, the dildo slid easily through his valve passage, activating nodes and jarring the recessed aperture at the end of his passage with a shock of pleasure/pain every time he angled his hips just right.

What really made his engine rev and brought sharp cries of ecstasy from open lips was the scrape of armour over the wall every time he slammed down. Desperate for the kind of fragging he hadn’t had in far too long, Ratchet checked his footing and shifted to protect the delicate internal duct at the end of his valve. A few experimental thrusts and adjustments brought the closest thing to perfection he could achieve with his current setup.

Oblivious to the grin spreading across his faceplates, Ratchet threw control out the airlock and began to chase down his overload with single-minded determination, getting louder and more energetic as the pleasure mounted.

## ~V~V~V~

When Perceptor entered the hab he expected to see Ratchet reading or working in the main room. When he saw the empty couch he didn’t need to look far to find his lover; interesting sounds coming from the washracks told him exactly where Ratchet was. A loud and very familiar moan interrupted by the sound of metal hitting ceramic brought a smile to his faceplates and a tingle to his array as he slid the door open.

“What do we have here?” Perceptor let his amusement and building lust fill his voice. Ratchet froze half-impaled on a sizeable dildo, trembling with arousal in the middle of the washracks. Perceptor saved a few image captures as lubricant and solvent ran down Ratchet's legs.  “Oh that is  _gorgeous_. I could watch you get off for _hours_ , you know.”

He had, many times. Perceptor absent-mindedly trailed fingers around his hip joint as he recalled some of the nicer nights he’d spent teasing Ratchet into a wordless mess of pleasured mech. Ratchet must have been recalling something similar because his engine rumbled and he twitched his hips, fragging himself with shallow strokes. His pressurised spike swayed heavily below him as red-and-white plating flared further to dump more heat. The subtle swing drew the gaze, gave Perceptor an idea. He measured the washracks by optic. It was small, sized for one mech to wash comfortably or two to squeeze in two at a time for a quick sluice.

_Yes, I think I can make this work._

He smirked, just to see the way Ratchet focused on him and nothing else.

_I have his full attention now…_

“Don’t move.” He warned, stepping into the washrack and ducking below Ratchet to kneel on the wet tiles. “Remember; you have to hold still.”

There was a mumbled affirmative overhead, Ratchet’s voice thick with lust.

That lust was expressed in a moan that rolled all the way down Perceptor’s spinal struts in a wave of fire to pool low in his belly as he wrapped a hand around Ratchet’s spike and began to stroke in long, smooth movements. A few careful adjustments and he was positioned comfortably beneath Ratchet, his optics alighting on something he hadn’t expected to see his lover using when playing by himself.

“What is this?” Perceptor ran a finger down Ratchet’s spike, skimming around the toy. It was set high, the microtool housings in his fingertip reporting pleasant feedback. “You really _were_ in need of some indulgence, weren’t you?”

He didn’t let Ratchet respond, sliding fingers down to press firmly against a node that turned whatever words the medic queued up into a short bark of static followed by a wordless moan. The false spike kept him from pressing down into Perceptor’s fingers but Ratchet still tried, lubricant running down his thighs as the shaft of the toy shifted inside him.

“Allow me indulge you, then.” Perceptor leaned forward, nuzzling the hot shaft of Ratchet’s spike, feeling sticky fluid smear down his cheek. “Let me bring you the pleasure you deserve.”

Perceptor’s vents hitched and lust ran hot through his lines as he continued to nuzzle at Ratchet’s spike while waiting for an answer. He let his glossa dart out for quick flicks at the shaft and leaking head whenever his patience started running low. Ratchet’s moans were music to his audials, red hips taking up a slow, careful pace as Ratchet began fucking himself on the dildo again. After a few minutes Perceptor decided that his lover probably needed a reminder. A glance up at the slack-mouthed expression of bliss on the mech hanging over him confirmed it.

“Tell me what you want, Ratchet.” He forced himself to back away from Ratchet’s spike and speak a little louder than normal, smirking at the flicker of disappointment that crossed Ratchet’s face. “Do you want my mouth on your spike? My hand? Do you want me to tease you until you beg for overload? Should I go back to the door and watch as you come undone or leave you be entirely and come back later to scoop you up off the floor?”

Ratchet’s movements went from smooth to jerky, biolights blinking erratically as he fought overload. Perceptor licked his lips and anticipated a hot, sticky spray from the spike in front of his face that never came.

 _Patience_.

“Mouth, hands.” Ratchet’s voice was hoarse, words forced out in between open-mouthed gasps as he moved. “Percy, Percy _please_. Suck my spike? _Need you_.”

It was all the permission he needed.

“ _Gladly_.”

Reaching up, Perceptor hooked his fingers into Ratchet’s hips to hold the heavy mech still. Gentle black fingers stroked soothingly over tense cables, flirting gently with nervewire junctions to heighten anticipation of what was to come. He nuzzled Ratchet’s shaft, trailing a line of gentle nibbling kisses along it as he moved from the vibrating ring at the base down to the twitching, leaking tip that sought a valve to lock into.

With glossa and lips Percy guided Ratchet into his mouth, unable to restrain his moan of satisfaction at the prickle of charge that shot through his mouth and down his intake. He rarely had the patience to tease Ratchet to this state by himself, despite how much he loved that initial burst of electricity that stung his glossa and woke every sensory filament in his frame. He sucked _hard_ on the head of Ratchet’s spike, pulling a short, sharp cry from the medic along with a brief spurt of metallic fluids that made his own array throb almost painfully behind his closed armour.

_Primus, I love seeing him like this._

Perceptor allowed himself a few more gentle, self-indulgent sucks before sliding further down Ratchet’s shaft. Solvent boiled off Ratchet's frame, siwlring lin clouds of steam and condensing on Perceptor's slightly cooler armour. Even with his fingers buried in Ratchet’s hips the other mech still tried to move, so lost in what Percy was doing to his spike and the thick dildo buried in his valve that he seemed to have forgotten they were in the cramped washracks where space was at a premium.

Open-mouthed cries of pleasure spilled from Ratchet as Perceptor worked him over, growing louder as his charge built. They combined with the patter of falling solvent to cover the lewd wet sounds Perceptor made as he slurped and sucked at Ratchet’s spike and the quiet grunts and moans of satisfaction that escaped his own self-control. Humming in harmony with the buzzing of the ring on Ratchet’s spike, Perceptor ignored the demands of his own frame to bring Ratchet right up to the edge of overload before pulling away.

“I can never quite decide if I want to swallow your load or wear it.” Perceptor’s voice was a husky purr as his hands caressed Ratchet's shaft. “You taste so nice but I love your mark on me. I wish we could get you modded so I didn’t have to decide, so I could have both at once.”

A sharp intake warned Perceptor that he only had a fraction of a second to make up his mind. He ducked his helm and took Ratchet in his mouth again as the medic overloaded with a breathless little sound that burned right to his array. The head of Ratchet’s spike expanded into the space he provided, the injector tip extended and then Perceptor’s mouth was filled with a wet rush that he fought to savour as his frame automatically swallowed it down. Perceptor's engine growled and all Ratchet could do was whine, hips jerking uselessly in the sniper’s strong grip as overload flowed over him and passed. Perceptor purred as Ratchet’s spike slipped from his lips, feeling the medic’s spill mix with the fuel in his tanks, giving him a delightfully full feeling.

## ~V~V~V~

Ratchet floated blissfully in the aftermath of a powerful overload, barely aware of hands leaving his hip joints and pulling the vibrating toy from his deflating spike. Aftershocks made his valve ripple around the dildo still buried deep inside him and he purred, bracing himself against the wall until his rubbery legs would hold him.

Suddenly Perceptor stood and pulled him forward, off the toy. Ratchet actually sobbed when it left his valve, the comforting fullness vanishing as it slipped out easily. Shaky in the aftermath of his overload he dropped to his knees without prompting. Strong hands gripped his shoulders, Perceptor lifting just enough to keep Ratchet from hurting himself on the floor.

Ratchet looked up to see Perceptor towering over him, looming close in the small room. His spike panel was at optic level for Ratchet, twitching and shuddering as it attempted to open and Perceptor ruthlessly overrode the commands. Ratchet knew what was coming and he licked his lips with anticipation, his own limp spike twitching with interest before subsiding again.

 _Gonna need more time to recover_.

“What do you want?” Perceptor asked.

It was one of their games. Percy wanted to hear Ratchet ask for his spike, describe what he wanted to do. The scientist got off on hearing it no matter how many times Ratchet asked for his spike.

“Your spike, Perceptor.” Ratchet didn’t have to fake the way his voice shook with lust. The first few times had been hard but he’d learned how to do this, simply for the reaction it got. “I want to taste you, feel you in me. I want you to worship your shaft as you take your pleasure in my mouth”

He had no idea what Perceptor liked about that kind of talk but Ratchet couldn’t deny the way his own fuel pump hammered as Perceptor’s optics darkened, his gaze becoming almost predatory as he licked his lips.

“I might just do that.” Perceptor growled as he finally let his armour fold aside, freeing his fully pressurised spike. “And then I think I might frag you against the wall.”

Ratchet swallowed oral solvent. He couldn’t take his optics off Percy’s spike.

“ _Please_.”

Strong hands gripped his helm, drew him forward. Ratchet shut his optics off as the blunt, leaking head of Perceptor’s erection pressed against his lipplates and he welcomed it in. An uncontrollable moan burst from him as Perceptor slid in slowly, allowing him to savour. His glossa slid worshipfully over hot protoflesh buzzing with charge, cheeks hollowed to create suction, trying to get more of the iron oxide tang that was _Perceptor_. Sighing happily as the flavour of his lover filled his mouth, Ratchet revved his engine in _their_ pattern and Perceptor begin to move.

Black hips rolled slowly, Perceptor withdrawing until he threatened to slip free of Ratchet’s lipplates altogether. Ratchet tried to chase the retreating spike as electricity danced over his glossa but Perceptor’s hands on his helm held him still and hovered there, teasing deliberately. His low chuckle echoed off the walls, obviously enjoying the way Ratchet fumbled desperately with lipplates and glossa, slurping loudly and trying to coax Perceptor back in.

Eventually Perceptor stopped teasing and began to slide through the circle of Ratchet’s lips at a leisurely pace, one he favoured for this sort of thing. Optics still firmly offline Ratchet sank into the taste and sound and smell of Percy. Letting the sniper frag his mouth like this was one of his guilty pleasures and he revelled in every second of it. Even the insistent throbbing in his own array faded into the background as Ratchet moaned with sparkfelt pleasure, licking and sucking at Perceptor's spike as the scientist calmly and thoroughly indulged them both.

Ratchet’s jaw was numb by the time Perceptor decided it was time to move along but he still whined and tried to chase the dripping shaft as Percy withdrew and pulled away from him. There was drool and lubricant all down his face; Ratchet could feel it as Perceptor helped him to stand. Solvent pattered over his frame and dripped from his straining spike, helping him cool down.He was so relaxed now that his legs didn’t want to work and it took a few moments of being held close to regain use of his limbs.

 _My erection's probably the only hard thing about me right now. Slag, Percy’s_ good _when he gets like this._

Perceptor took advantage of the pause and the closeness to kiss Ratchet, exploring his mouth just as methodically as he’d fragged it. He responded sloppily, tired lips and glossa responding sluggishly. As usual, the atypical clumsiness on his part was like match to tinder for Perceptor; he went from gentle to aggressive in half a sparkpulse. His engine revved loudly and he tightened his grip on Ratchet’s waist, denting thinner plates. Ratchet felt a strong thigh slide between his as Percy pulled him close, pressing their chestplates together. Ratchet moaned low in his throat and surrendered, locking his fingers together behind Perceptor’s helm and nipping at his lower lip in blatant invitation for rougher play.

It wasn’t until their erect spikes brushed, exchanging electrifying jolts of charge that Perceptor seemed to remember the second half of his plan. He peeled himself away from Ratchet’s mouth with obvious reluctance. Normally silent fans whirred quietly as he panted and gazed down at Ratchet with his optic and lens blazing.

Lubricant trailed down Ratchet’s thighs to be washed away by falling solvent as Perceptor turned him under the spray to face the wall that was currently adorned with a small halo of his paint streaks around the thick dildo still suctioned to it.

“Legs wide, hands on the wall.” Perceptor purred dangerously in Ratchet’s audial as he hovered close, vents dumping heat on Ratchet’s back. “Remember, _don’t move_.”

Armour flared and shivering with arousal beneath the shower spray, Ratchet obeyed.

## ~V~V~V~

Ratchet’s willing obedience sent liquid lust pouring through Perceptor’s lines to match the hot solvent spray pooling in armour crevices on Ratchet's back. It was beyond intoxicating to have one of the fiercest, most indomitable mechs he’d ever met comply without a fuss, choosing to submit to Perceptor and doing so out of desire.

_He is so beautiful like this._

Ratchet was already thoroughly prepared by the toy. Perceptor could just make out the first rank of internal biolights just inside the medic’s entrance. They blinked at him as Ratchet’s internal mechanisms cycled and flexed, seeking sensation and providing a brilliant target for his unsatisfied spike. He wasn’t quite as thick as the dildo ratchet had been using and Perceptor briefly entertained the notion of getting one of the textured spike sleeves from Ratchet’s toy box, one that would massage them both as he fragged Ratchet through the wall.

 _And Ratchet always makes such lovely noises when he’s_ really _stuffed full_.

Fresh lubricant welled up from deep within Ratchet’s passage as he waited impatiently for Perceptor to frag him, engine growling. The way the fluid caught and refracted the light from Ratchet’s biolights as it collected on his valve folds made Perceptor’s mouth go suddenly dry with lust. Before he could change his mind, maybe lean down and quench his sudden thirst with Ratchet’s lube, Perceptor snapped his hips forward and buried himself baseplate-deep in the waiting mech.

It was perfect.

Slick, hot protoflesh parting smoothly before him and closing in to surround his spike in an intimate caress as Ratchet actually _wailed_ with lust. It was a beautiful sound, one Perceptor had only heard a rare handful of times and the associations threatened to send him into overload on the spot.

The small room was full of steam but their fans were blowing it away from what Perceptor wanted to see. Ratchet bowed before him, filled and quivering with arousal and still desperate for more.

 _Desperate for_ me _._

Fighting off overload, Perceptor rolled his hips to grind his baseplate firmly against Ratchet’s aft. This got him a drawn-out moan of pleasure, Ratchet pressing back ever so slightly. Quicker than thought, Perceptor delivered a warning smack to one of Ratchet’s thighs.

“I said _don’t move_.” He snapped, just to hear Ratchet’s engine rev. Gently, Perceptor stroked the sting away and explained himself. “It is _very_ cramped in here, my love. I need you to stay as still as possible so I can achieve my stated aim and _frag you through that wall_.”

The last five words were growled next to Ratchet’s audial as Perceptor leaned forwards to cover the medic with his frame, moving his hips in quick, shallow thrusts.

“Please, Percy.” Ratchet’s voice was ragged with lust. “ _Hard_. Do me deep and hard. I want to feel you for the next _week_.”

He couldn’t resist, not when Ratchet’s rich voice seemed to emerge from deep within his chest and the medic begged him to do perverted things to him with that cultured accent he’d never quite lost and made Perceptor feel less self-conscious about his own accent in the berthroom.

“My pleasure.” Perceptor settled his hands on Ratchet’s pelvic armour, getting a good grip. “But I want to be able to _hear_ you, so I can tell if you are enjoying yourself. Understand?”

Ratchet snorted through his vents but he nodded, shifting his pedes a little to allow Perceptor better access. When he was ready Ratchet’s engine rolled in a familiar pattern of revs. Perceptor kissed the scuffs his fingers had left in the paint of Ratchet’s helm, straightened up and began to move.

The first hard thrust showed that their balance was off slightly. Once they adjusted Perceptor was moving again, withdrawing only to slam deep and hard into Ratchet’s hot, slick passage. Instead of a wail he got a short, sharp cry of pleasure brought an almost feral grin of delight to Perceptor’s face. He changed his angle slightly, wrapping his hands wrapped around Ratchet’s waist, anchoring him, keeping the medic still so Perceptor could frag him as requested.

Every bruising thrust got another one of those beautiful sounds, encouraging him to go harder, faster until he was hammering into the medic with all the strength in his frame. Perceptor’s own breathless grunts of pleasure were interspersed with praise for Ratchet, urging him to continue. He rewarded every particularly lovely cry with a change of pace, a grind of the hips, a brisk slap to sensitive seams of Ratchet’s thighs which confused his neural net enough to stave off the impending overload just a little longer. The first time he used _that_ trick Perceptor heard a breathless laugh that turned into a choppy shout as he thrust rapidly into Ratchet, grinning down at the smooth curve of backstruts as ratchet arched to guiding Perceptor's thrusts to hit his favourite internal nodes.

Perceptor held out as long as he could, reveling in Ratchet's uninhibited reactions and the pure carnal delight of fragging his lover so hard they’d both need repainted. Then the need for overload became too much and he lurched forward with a muffled cry, holding Ratchet’s hips still against his as his spike head locked on to the valve at the end of Ratchet’s passage. White-hot ecstasy poured through him as Ratchet’s valve cycled in overload and Perceptor began emptying his nanite reservoirs into the medic’s waiting tanks as Ratchet shook and screamed his own overload beneath him.

## ~V~V~V~

Drift was walking down one of the residential corridors when he heard what sounded like a fight in progress. Irregular clanging and thumping, the odd open-handed blow. Someone was shouting; short, pained-sounding cries that had him drawing swords and kicking the door open as soon as he recognised Ratchet’s voice.

He charged through the main room, heading in the direction of the shouting, skidding to a halt and wrenching the washracks door open in one movement as Ratchet gave a particularly loud scream.

Holding his swords at the ready, Drift waited for the heavy fog to clear.

When it did he nearly dropped his swords.

 _Oh Primus can the floor just open up under me right_ now? _Please?_

Frozen in erotic tableau were Perceptor and Ratchet.

The scientist was hunched forward over Ratchet’s back, fingers digging deep grooves into red hips. He was obviously buried to the hilt in Ratchet. He was just as obviously quaking through the tail-end of an extremely powerful overload if his expression and the amount of silvery ejaculate sliding down two sets of trembling thighs meant anything.

 _His… his chamber couldn’t hold it all._ Wow _._

As for Ratchet, he was standing spread-legged with his hands pressed to the wall, helm hanging low as he panted. The tiled wall in front of him was covered with red paint streaks and a massive fake spike that Ratchet had just sloppily painted with his own overload.

Perceptor reset his vocaliser loudly, drawing Drift’s attention guiltily away from where it had been fixed on the tip of Ratchet’s spike twitching and sending a last few drops to the floor between his pedes.

Drift felt overly warm, his vents cycling too fast as he met Perceptor’s gaze.

Shame and discomfort made Drift flush. He opened his mouth to stammer some stupid excuse but only a pathetic staticky squeak emerged. Perceptor smirked and raised an optical ridge, hands moving soothingly over Ratchet’s scuffed flanks. The medic was still firmly impaled on Perceptor’s spike and Drift could feel his own array tingling as activation requests popped up on his HUD.

Drift’s embarrassment soared to new heights when Ratchet raised his head rather groggily. The thoroughly debauched expression on his faceplates had Drift utterly transfixed. Ratchet licked his lips, slightly dazed optics trailing up Drift’s frame before they focused on his face.

**Click! Whrrrrr**

Instead of trying to shut his cooling fans off and apologise Drift turned and fled.

At least the pair in the washracks had the decency not to laugh at him.

**Author's Note:**

> There is a hilarious drift/percy/ratchet comic somewhere on tumblr that probably subconsciously influenced me with this. I'd forgotten about it until someone reminded me >.


End file.
